


No Sense is Nonsense VII: Pure Thirst

by LadyAna5



Category: due South
Genre: Drama, Episode Related, M/M, Romance, Series, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-09-12
Updated: 2003-09-12
Packaged: 2018-11-11 02:47:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11139612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyAna5/pseuds/LadyAna5
Summary: Chapter seven of the "No Sense is Nonsense" series. Here, Ray finds out what may be the sinister truth behind James friendship. Fraser helps the Detective find out the truth, but what Vecchio discovers is highly questionable.





	No Sense is Nonsense VII: Pure Thirst

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

  
No Sense is Nonsense VII: Pure Thirst

## No Sense is Nonsense VII: Pure Thirst

by LadyAna

Author's website: http://http://www.geocities.com/ladyanasslashsite/

Disclaimer: Copyright to Alliance!

Author's Notes: Infidelity scenario's suggested. Please contact me if you need help reading the full story in sequence!   


Story Notes: I can't keep track of all the spoilers I use!

This story is a sequel to: No Sense Is Nonsense VI- Justice is Afoot - https://www.squidge.org/dsa/archive/8/nosense.html 

* * *

"Pure Thirst"  
by LadyAna 

"Uncle Benny! Uncle Benny! I still can't get this piece to fit together!" 

The Mountie snapped awake, much to Ray's amusement. 

"I'm sorry, Reggie. Did you still need my help?" Benny asked, a bit alarmed. 

Reggie, Ray's nephew, was trying to put together his new miniature telescope with the Constable's assistance, but it was apparent both child and Mountie were just about tuckered out for the evening. Nearly passing out, Reggie watched a blurry-eyed Canadian simply attached the scope to it's stand. It was at that point Ray decided it was time to call it a night. 

"Okay, guys, I don't know about you, but it's time for me to get some shut eye. I need my beauty sleep." 

"What for, Uncle Ray? You won't look any better." 

Ray blinked at the child's seemingly innocent claim. "Excuse me? Whatta' ya' tryin' to say?" 

"Well, Franna says you look like a toad, no how many times Prince Charming kisses you. I don't get it. What does she mean?" 

_Frannie...I will kill you..._ "She means herself, kiddo. I never told you about the warts she burned off with the end of her broomstick." 

"Ray..." Fraser admonished. 

"Fine, then we're outta' here. Let me go say goodnight to Ma'." 

"Don't worry, Reggie. I'll be back tomorrow to help you with this." 

"Okay, Uncle Benny." 

Ray returned from the kitchen, with his mother following. The Italian grabbed his coat as Rosa Vecchio announced, "All right, everybody. It's way past your bedtime. Let's head off to bed." Even though she was right, there were a few protestations among the children of the Vecchio clan, all accompanied by big yawns and droopy eyes. 

Ray smiled and went over to his mother. "Thanks, Ma. I'm really surprised Benny's still conscious. We were at the soup kitchen earlier and the children's hospital before that. I want to get him home before he falls over in a heap." 

"Well, Raymondo, it _is_ after two in the morning. I am just glad he was able to join us for midnight mass. Go on home and I'll see you tomorrow." The Detective kissed his mom good night and promised to be back the next day to help her with dinner. 

"Tonight was good." Ray said to the Mountie. 

"Yes, I could tell the children were very happy with the presents they received. Your family seemed to be very pleased with their gifts as well." 

Ray smiled as he said, "Did you see Frannie's face when she got the jewelry cabinet? I thought she was gonna' faint!" 

Fraser shook his head. "I have never understood, Ray, why you insist on trying to outdo or 'one up' your siblings with the exchange of gifts during the holidays." 

"Well, it's a sorta' Vecchio family tradition. I think it's our own backwards way of saying we care. We don't come right out and say it very often, so we turn Christmas into a contest of sorts to see who can get who really good presents. You see all the stuff Ma got, which shoulda' happened anyway. She deserves it." 

"Your mother did seem very pleased. And, of course, thank you for the presents, Ray. I greatly appreciate them." 

The cop smiled, thinking how touched Benny was when he opened his gifts that night. Ray had insisted on them opening at least one of their presents to one another before they went over to the Vecchio home. 

"You don't have to thank me _again_ , Benny. I'm just glad you liked them, just like I loved your gifts to me. I can't believe you even knew who Billie Joel was!" 

"Well, I know you own several CD's by him. I just thought it would be prudent to buy the entire set." There was a pause before Fraser said, "I also appreciate your help lately at the Consulate, Ray. I know it took you away from your regular work at the precinct." 

Ray arched his eyebrows. "Well Benny, just remember that the next time someone sends a bill to the Consulate that you don't recognize. Just because someone asks for money doesn't mean you owe it to them." 

"Of course, Ray." 

Vecchio couldn't believe Turnbull went out of his way to pay a huge phone bill for the Consulate. The phony long distance company sent the invoice, hoping someone wouldn't notice and just pay it without thinking, which Renny had. Then, the service was turned off for lack of payment to the correct carrier. Of course, the Italian stepped in to make sure the wrong-doers were at least rendered unable to rip of anymore consumers by contacting Mackenzie King at the newspaper. Fraser was just happy Meg hadn't been there to see the fiasco unfold. 

_The Dragon Lady would've skinned him alive, had she not been so busy shedding her own skin._

Since being shot by a member of the Trio, things actually had improved for the Constable in his workplace. But Ray chalked it up to the Inspector trying to prove to the higher-ups she was indeed worthy of the promotion for which she was originally overlooked. The decision to keep Meg in Chicago resulted in Fraser being cut back to part time, which further depressed the Mountie. However, it looked like Thatcher's hard work elsewhere was paying off, hence her loosening the noose on Fraser and allowing him to soon return to at least a full, eight hour work day. It certainly didn't hurt her resume, having Fraser help her out. The Canadian _did_ seem happier these days, if restless for trying to stick to a semblance of an arrangement. It included keeping the heroics and lethal deeds to a minimum. The only other thing bothering Ray reared it's ugly head and made him ask a silly question. It was an impulsive thing to suggest, but he did anyway. "You wanna' thank me, I can think of a few things we could do." Ray said, smiling. 

"Such as?" the Mountie cluelessly asked. 

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe a few things once we get back home...alone." 

The tone was highly suggestive, but was lost on the Constable. 

"Like what?" 

The cop began to feel a little stupid here, having to spell out as plain as day a big problem they had as a couple. It made him upset to know sex really was _that_ far away from his so-called lover's mind. However, the evening had been wonderful and Vecchio was not about to let the Mountie bring his good mood down. 

"Maybe a few naughty things, sexy things." 

"Oh! Well, maybe so. But it is kind of late, Ray. What about tomorrow night?" 

That was Benny's typical strategy to avoid the act. It was always some version of, 'not now, but later, okay?' premise, for which, at that time, he would generate another excuse. Once again, the Italian refused to take the morbid bait and told himself they had been good lately. Not great, but good. 

"Of course, Benny. Tomorrow night is fine." 

It didn't take but a few moments of silence before Fraser was slipping into a comfy coma in the passenger's seat of the Riv. The snow wasn't as bad as before and the Riv was doing a fine job handling the wet streets. Ray found himself enjoying the memories the evening held and he wasn't as tired or as stressed out as he thought he'd be. His family had their usual, chaotic celebrating of the Christmas holiday, including opening presents as soon as they got home after midnight mass. Ray couldn't really remember when the tradition began, to exchange gifts directly after church services, but he believed it had something to do with his mother wanting to sleep in a little longer on Christmas morning. After all, the entire family would be there in the early afternoon, wanting the elaborate meal she'd taken days to prepare. 

_I swear I'm gonna' make them help Benny and me clean up this year. I ain't letting Ma do it and Frannie and Maria have to look after the kids. It won't kill the rest the my kin to do more than eat and run._

Mass that night was typical enough, and the Italian got to see a few neighbors and friends of the family he'd lost contact with. Nonetheless, just as when he was a child, Ray never really felt at ease surrounded by other so-called religious people. In the past, he'd encountered others who claimed to be true believers. Mostly, they were out to serve only themselves and used their warped version of God's word to justify their actions. Ray had worried what would happen at St. Michael's once it circulated he and Fraser were an item. It didn't really matter they didn't regularly attend services there. He just didn't want the congregation to make his family's attendance an ordeal. Surprisingly, their being together caused less of a fuss at the church than he'd expected and Ray knew it was due to the support of his mother and, surprisingly, Father Behan, who helped them get through that rough time. The older priest said he may not understand all of the Almighty's creation's, but he knew evil when he saw it...and what Ray and the Mountie shared was certainly not ungodly. Vecchio was deeply touched by the father backing them up. 

_Finally. A man of the cloth who understands the concept of compassion._

Dief opted to stay at the Vecchio's for the night, seeing the multitude of brightly-wrapped packages residing in the backseat of the Riv. This way, he wasn't squashed into a corner by all the presents the two law-enforcement men had bestowed upon them. _And_ the lazy lupine got first dips on the turkey tomorrow. Ray glanced in the backseat, but it was a futile gesture. He was trying to make sure the presents he and Fraser had swapped that night were back there. There were gifts from family members, as well as tokens of appreciations from those who resided in the neighborhood, old and new. Sometimes they were tagged independently, sometimes it was a gift meant for the both of them. 

It was always amazing to see Benny's affect on people and how those same folks used this time of year to show their gratitude. Some of the offerings nearly had the Detective teary-eyed, like the old woman from the senior's block, who'd hand-knitted a huge blanket, all because she'd overheard Ray complaining about being cold while on a fruitless stakeout with Fraser. There was also George, the kid who loved to draw. Tonight, he'd given Ray a pretty nifty picture of the cop driving the Riv, with the Mountie next to him and Dief in the backseat. It moved Vecchio greatly, because he knew George had it rough, seeing the poor kid has leukemia. Vecchio remembered the dreadful, sinking wave he got when he saw the boy for the first time. The child was pale, except for the dark circles under his eyes and he was bald from the radiation and chemotherapy treatments. It was the Italian who'd given him the crayons and paper in the first place. Ray blinked away the sudden blurriness, bringing himself back to the road before him. 

_What did the soup kitchen and hospital do? Hand out flyers saying we'd be there tonight?_

The Italian pulled up in the parking lot of their building and took the presents inside. He got Benny inside and in bed before the Mountie woke up for too long. Still wired from the night's events, Ray decided to stay up for a while, looking over the Billy Joel CD Box set that Fraser got for him. After looking for a while at the booklet that came with the collection, he decided against playing music at such a late hour and settled on watching TV in the front room. He changed into his pajama's, saying he would shower tomorrow morning. 

He came out and was just about to locate the tape on which he'd recorded the latest episode of "Law  & Order", when a gold-labeled videotape on the floor caught his eye. He squinted to see it, stacked in between several other cassettes in his collection. When recognition hit, there was a tingle in his stomach, a tale-tale sign of a guilty thrill, if ever was one. Ray reached for the cassette in question, a little curious, a little nervous, for considering watching something so crude on such a night. He smiled, thinking of the one who gave him the tapes and their naughty contents. 

_James, you're as lewd as what you loaned me!_

The cop had never been one for porn, although he did have a few straight ones before he got together with Benny. As unmanly as it sounded, his fantasies had to be at least somewhat realistic and he just _knew_ a lot of the pretty girls in said films were paid for their "services" and wouldn't have a thing to do with him. And sometimes the guys were so unattractive, it was distracting. Plus, a lot of the straight "blue" films he came across were very poorly made. Ray couldn't stand the silly scenarios or watching people who looked bored while getting screwed, like they didn't care they were getting laid. 

However, he remembered the two tapes he had that were gay oriented, the two J.P. correctly guessed he owned, and they starred some stunningly gorgeous men and seriously hot action. It had been a while since he'd watched them, since he knew them almost verbatim. He couldn't truly determine why he didn't purchase more, since Benny didn't mind the Italian watching such things. Ray admitted said material sometimes increased his sex-starved appetite, even if the immediate result was pleasing. Vecchio replayed the Constable's polite refusal in the Riv tonight. Could he help it the Canadian knew nothing of what it was like to have a lecherous devil in one's soul? The darkness heated his blood, strained his heart, painfully engorging his lust and continually demanded appeasement. He flipped the tape over in his hand, thinking it _had_ been a while since he'd indulged himself. Suddenly, he was looking forward to feeding and, hopefully, quieting that inner demon. 

His heart beat a little faster when he popped in the tape and got comfy on the couch, with a handy towel nearby. He found the remote, which was good, since looking for something he couldn't find was a major pet peeve of his. The muffled sound and slightly blurry picture came up and it was obvious James had dubbed these copies from a rental tape. The quality wasn't bad for what was probably a "second-generation" recording. 

_Or being watched a few hundred times by Pace._

That spicy remark was accompanied by a swift image of James watching the porn...and enjoying it. Vecchio slammed his eyes shut, blocking out the racy sight and ignored his thumping heart. 

_Don't go there, Vecchio. Talk about pointless._

It was different for him, but thinking of James in a sexual sense just seemed...wrong. Which was odd, seeing the Italian was no stranger to bawdy thoughts. He felt as long as he kept such salacious musings in his head, it wasn't a bad thing to let one's imagination roam. Yet, whenever he considered J.P. in such a light, he pushed it away. Perhaps it was Pace's rather wild carnal nature that left the cop with such reluctance. 

_He'd probably wear some kinky outfit, while swinging from the chandelier in leather. And that is soooo not happening._

He opened his eyes again and the screen displayed a cute guy with long blond hair, blue eyes, sitting in a movie theater, holding a large bowl of popcorn. Cheesy, electronic music played in the background, a staple for such movies. Another attractive man with short, wavy, black hair and a deep tan, came along and asked "blondy" something, then sits down next to him. The sound quality was so poor, Ray could barely make out what was being said. "Darky" looks into the popcorn bowl, as does the camera, only to see that the blond hunk had somehow poked his own dick and testicles through the bottom of the popcorn container. Ray couldn't help it - he burst out laughing, then immediately tried to silence himself. It was the most ludicrous thing he'd seen in a while and the last thing he wanted was for the Mountie to come in, asking what was so funny. Holding the back of his hand over his mouth to stifle his giggling, he watched as the scene was horribly spliced to "darky" going down on "blondy", sans the cardboard cockring. 

_Oh yeah, that happens to me all the time when I go see a film! But is it more expensive than the concession stand?_

The dark one began to look up at the blond as he serviced him on his knees and the blue-eyed stud started ruffling the brown, wavy hair. The gentle gestures and raw acts were titillating, but if the "couple" had been someplace more private, Ray would've enjoyed it more. After watching those two for a while, Vecchio pressed fast-forward, knowing a lot of these flicks gave the impression the "actors" lasted forever, like their erections were made of steel. To him, it was actually kind of irritating. The requisite money shot didn't take as long as he thought, then the tape went on to show another "story." 

It was a jock cruising in a pickup truck and spotting some dude outside a club, wearing a black leather jacket, white T-shirt and blue jeans. Fresh-faced and clean cut, they both looked like extras from the TV show "Happy Days." Pickup Boy had brown hair, but it was shaved close, in a military buzzcut. The Street Hottie looked like Arthur Fonzarelli's younger, cuter brother. Ray had to admit liking that look where guys were concerned. After some muffled words, the two of them where back at Pickup Boy's place. Then they did something that surprised Ray. They came together and kissed, long and slow, but not very deep. They began touching and exploring one another's bodies, removing clothing as they did so. From what he'd previously seen, such personal exchanges where not very common in porn. It was all about getting some action going _now_ and having a camera mere inches from a orifice that was already being filled. Vecchio watched as they got naked and charted each other's forms with heavy caresses and oral touches. They stared into each other's eyes and that same gaze traveled hungrily over both bodies. That familiar heat in Ray's belly expanded and traveled throughout his system. Sensuous, tender, heated loving-making - it was Ray Vecchio's weakness. He reached down to grope himself, liking the friction. He threw the covers off and pulled his pj's down just enough to expose himself, curling his fist around his stiffness. 

"J.P." he said aloud, "This is all your fault." 

* * *

It was nine thirty in the morning and Ray was expecting a visitor, although he was unsure why he was still making such an effort. Tanya Camfetel was hopefully going to be at the station that morning. The girlfriend of the murdered security guard, Michael Perrkinson, had finally taken time to see the police about who might have killed him. Vecchio shook his head, sightly admonishing his vile thoughts towards the young woman. Some of her reasons for not coming in were more than valid. Besides, the Italian had been bogged down with other cases or out of town, making time to speak with her difficult as it was. And one could only obtain so much from repeated phone calls. It didn't help there hadn't been any real clues or evidence to go on. The case was not too far away from being classified as open, but unsolved. 

_At least Benny said we could be together tonight. That's IF everything goes okay._

He sighed. It seemed the case was all but forgotten by everyone but Ray, and of course, Fraser. And the only reason Ray kept looking into it was because, of course, it was the right thing to do and he felt he owed that much to James, even if Pace hardly ever asked for updates these days. 

_He probably knows I'd tell him if we had any information, so he doesn't ask to keep from hounding me._

He was reading over another case file when he looked up to see Elaine talking with a young black lady. The woman was probably in her mid-thirties, modestly dressed and her hair was styled in large, tight braids for easy care. Elaine was smiling and cooing at the infant in the woman's arms and took the baby right before pointing in Ray's direction. She smiled, but not much, as she came over to him. He stood to meet her. 

"Detective Vecchio?" 

"That's me. How can I help you?" 

"I'm Tanya Camfetel." 

"Good! I mean, please, take a seat." said Ray, as he reseated himself. 

Ray had to remind himself to be respectful and not just launch into a multitude of questions. The woman _had_ lost her lover, be it a several months back. "How are you doing, Tanya?" 

She shrugged. "As good as can be expected, I guess. Michael Jr. is teething and he's sick on top of it. I haven't been sleeping much, although my mother is helping me out. You know I had to move back in with her, right?" 

"Yes, I remember you mentioning that. I called you down here because I just need to clear a few things up." 

Ray noticed she was tense and her eyes read exhaustion. He felt bad having to make her go through this, but it was essential before all he could do was file the murder of her boyfriend as a cold case. "Let's get this over with, then." He flipped open the file and began to go through the stacks of paper inside. 

* * *

"There was no one there." 

"That's odd." 

Ray walked away from the door and sat back down at the dinner table. "Maybe somebody had the wrong apartment. Anyway, like I was saying, I talked with Tanya Camfetel today and jeez, talk about a pointless meeting. She barely had anything more to say in person than she did on the phone. It really looks like I'm gonna' have to tell Welsh I'm just not getting anywhere with the case." 

Fraser poured himself some more soda as he spoke. "Well, the lieutenant knows you been trying your best, Ray. He even commented that you mentioned a few angles he hadn't considered." 

"That's about the only thing good that came out of this investigation." 

Ray wiped off his hands and someone knocked on the door again. Vecchio and Fraser exchanged glances, then Ray stood to answer it a second time. "Now I don't care if they're lost! They need to stop bugging people at dinner time!" 

He whisked the door open, only to find no one in the hallway, just like the first time. Ray squinted, not understanding why someone would knock and run. Surely he knew no one that juvenile. 

_Right._ "Pace! Get out here now!" The cop yelled into the hallway. 

James poked his head out from the doorway of the stairwell. "Yeesss?!" Vecchio rolled his eyes as his friend came towards him, smiling a little as well. J.P. wore a black leather jacket, white Tshirt and blue jeans, not unlike one of the guys on the porn tape, which the cop admonished himself for thinking. "Yo, sport, it's good to see you! Hey, _catch me if you can!_ " 

At that, James literally leaped into Ray's arms and the cop had little choice but to catch him or the fool would land with a thud. 

But it didn't stop Vecchio from pushing him away and voicing his displeasure. "Get DOWN! Get off me, you total nut!" 

J.P. began giggling, standing just in time to see Fraser by the dinner table. "Hey Fraser, you see this!? He even turns down men who throw themselves at him!" 

The Mountie ducked his head and smiled. "Good evening, James. Actually, I've never had a reason to not trust Ray." 

Inwardly, Ray winced a little, but didn't let it show, instead saying the expected reply, "Why thanks, Benny! I would hope so." 

"Oh, yes!" said Fraser. "Thank you for the Christmas gift." 

"Not a problem, dear! I saw that Rubic's Cube and knew it was yours!" 

"Well, I have figured out the code several times now. Ray said I should time myself." Pace shook his head, smiling. "Maybe you should do that. And thanks for the homemade pine-scented candles. Cool stuff!" 

"I'm glad you liked them." 

"Look, guys, I didn't mean to interrupt your foodtime, but I was in the area and thought I'd stop by and kidnap Ray, if that's okay." 

Vecchio was already shaking his head. "No can do, partner. But you can stay for a while and we can chat. Sound okay?" 

Fraser was quick to object. "No, Ray, if you wish to go out tonight, that's perfectly fine with me." 

An angry flush came over Vecchio that he immediately brushed off. "No, that's okay, Benny. I got some plans later on." 

J.P. placatingly held out his hands. "Ray. It won't take all night. I just wanted to go over a few things with you about New Years Eve. I know you said you wanted to help out with the party and I just gotta' confirm a few things with you." 

Ray's eyes widened. "James! New Years is days away! What on Earth do you-?!" Ray stopped, raised his own hands in surrender. "You know what? I don't want to know. Let's just do it. I'll be back as soon as I can, Benny." 

The Mountie was clearing away the dishes. "It's no rush, Ray. Take your time." 

Vecchio opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Abruptly, he went to grab his coat, went straight for the door and walked into the hallway. He savagely shrugged on his coat and viciously punched the elevator button with his fist. 

James, having seen all of this, said, "Ray, you don't _have_ to come with me, you know." 

The cop sighed dramatically as they went through the double doors. "Don't worry about it! So what are these big plans you need to talk about?" 

James glanced at him. "Sorry." 

Vecchio looked at his friend, reminding himself that J.P. _did_ know about some of his more personal issues with the Canadian. "It's not you. He doesn't even remember. I'd actually asked a few days ago, but stuff got in the way. But he said we could tonight. If I get back in time." 

"Look, I just need for you to help me put together the stereo system I borrowed. It won't take more than a couple of hours! It's only seven p.m. right now!" 

"That's not it. Look, don't worry about it. You wouldn't understand." 

"Oh, we're back to that again, huh? Thinking all I do is have a parade of men in and out of apartment? I know you don't believe me, but we 'beautiful people' have it hard too." 

Vecchio sneered, "I wouldn't know." 

"Let's take my car since you're so wound up. I wouldn't want to be around, should something happen to your four-wheeled baby. Okay. You think I got it made. Let me tell you about this one time I when to this bar, right after I broke up with Keith. I ran into this guy who I knew through some friends. He seemed interested, so we talked for a while and soon ended up back at my place. I swear, he couldn't keep his hands off me! It was like, 'talk-time is over, screwing must start now!' I gave up and just went to bed with him. Afterward, do you think we talked? Or made plans for later? Hell, no! He was out the door faster than I could get dressed. I would've bet money he went right back to the bar. And he's not the first to take one look at me and anything more than sex goes right out the window. That's when I said, that was it. No clubs, no one night stands. I just wanted to concentrate on getting my life together." 

Vecchio kept his gaze on the street, trying to block out the narrative Pace provided. "Well...I can't say I identify, but I hear you." Ray smiled and said, "So, you're telling me you've been chaste all this time, denying the population of all you have to offer?" 

Another giggle fit segued into, "Yeah, I have, but I've also been able to accomplish a lot. Look, I'm gonna' pick up some food. What're you in the mood for?" 

Ray turned to say he didn't feel like eating, when he noticed the streetlight glinting off of Pace's watch. The Italian almost turned away, when he had an odd hunch. J.P.'s left arm was steadfast on top of the steering wheel and even though it was dark outside, the cop could see the designer of the timepiece quite well. He'd seen it often enough after drug busts and those arrested would protest at having to hand over their "rollees". 

"Um, I ain't really hungry." He let a few seconds pass before causally asking, "So where'd you get the watch?" 

James smiled as they pulled into the drive through of a local coney island. "Ah, you noticed. Isn't it a beaut?" Pace slipped it off and handed it to Ray. "Platinum. Polish bezel. I _love_ it." There was a pause before J.P. said, "It was my father's." 

James gave his order and as they drove around to pay for it, Ray viewed the item. He said, "Yeah. It looks pretty...high quality.", barely avoided using the using the word "expensive". Ray squinted his brow and through the fog of tension, he realized he had no idea how much a Rolex costed. His father disowned James after he came out, making Ray wonder how did Pace come to own it? 

"You and your father didn't exactly get along, right?" 

"That's right." J.P. smoothly answered. "Which is _why_ I have it. It would make him crazy to know I got it, after all was said and done." 

Vecchio was thinking so intensely about his friend's latest acquisition, he almost didn't hear his reluctant admission. 

"There were...a few things Keith wanted me to do...that I wasn't comfortable with. It caused a few fights between us." 

After the words sunk in, Ray glanced at Pace. "Really? Dare I ask what?" He handed the watch back. 

James shrugged, put the watch back on while shaking his head and scowling. "That's another reason we broke up. It was getting too violent, even for me. It was like he knew we were growing apart, so he tried to make our loving more, I don't know, brutal, is the only way I can describe it. A pretty face wasn't helping me out of _that_ bind." 

The detective smiled, touched at Pace's definition of having sex. Loving. He liked that. He tried to lighten the mood. "'Our loving'? That's just soooo sickeningly sweet. What's next? Perfumed love letters on pink paper?" 

J.P. grudgingly smirked. The food came and J.P. placed the bag on the floor of the car, at his feet. "Yeah. Unlike you, I don't knock them out before dragging them back to the cave." Vecchio laughed, causing James to smile more. The cop was back to watching the dark, urban scenery, when he heard Pace mumble something, but he didn't fully hear it. Once he made out most of it, the cop was shocked! Had Pace really just uttered the Mountie is an idiot?! 

"What?! What did you just say?" 

"Nothing...nevermind." 

The insult was a declaration, that he could tell; impassioned, if grumbled. After taking into account the content of their conversation, it didn't take much to understand. As cruel as it was, it was nice to hear someone state the Canadian was a fool for passing up Ray! But the Detective still wasn't going to let anyone talk bad about Fraser like that. 

Ray viewed him skeptically. "Uh-huh. _Nothing_ is what I thought you said." 

J.P. segued the topic by saying, "Hey, grab the bag from down here and please see if they put in enough napkins and something for me to eat with. That place is notorious for making me eating with my hands." 

Vecchio got a funny tremor in his stomach. It may have been slight, but the warning bells in his head were not. "You mean dive between your legs and go fishing? How about no? We're almost to your place anyway." 

They drove to the parking garage below J.P.'s loft and parked. "That's not the point, Ray. If I pay for carry-out, I should get plastic-wear and napkins! Fine, then check the glove compartment." 

J.P. took off his seat belt and grabbed the bag off the floor. Ray shook his head and reached forward. "This coming from the man who has a fortune strapped to his wrist and you're being stingy about..." Vecchio halted his words as the entire contents of the glove compartment fell all over the floor. "What the _Hell_?! Okay, James, I am not cleaning this up." He rummaged around in the mess. "And there's what, two, crumpled tissues in here - unused, I hope." 

Pace exited the car, saying, "Then forget it. Come on, I wanna' eat so we can get this entertainment system set up." 

Ray would've followed, except his Detective skills were showing him a clue. Inside the darkened vehicle, there on the floor, amongst the endless pile of receipts, a log of maintenance work on the car, extra air fresheners and a mileage book, was a car registration. It was for the Lexus...and registered solely to James Pace. Not Aegis, nor Mr. Laron Parks, the owner of the security company. Was this car James, as well as the BMW? Vecchio admitted he truly couldn't see the document that well and wasn't going to go snooping. "Yeah, let's get this done with." 

"Well, of course." Pace waggled his eyebrows as they waited on the elevator. "You gotta' spend some time with the Mountie alone before you start getting even more grumpy, if that's possible." 

"I'm past that point, chum." 

"Did the porn help?" 

Vecchio looked at him incredulously. "What kind of a question is that?" 

"A blatant one. Expect anything else from me?" 

"Nothing less. Yes, I guess it did help. Some. Good enough for you?" Ray looked away, resisting the urge to say he'd watched a couple of tapes several times. Honestly, he was having a hard time _not_ thinking about them. "Sure." 

The doors closed and the two men ascended in silence. When the doors opened, James stepped into his place and loudly blurted, "I'm in the mood for _popcorn_! How about you?!" 

The ludicrous image returned to Ray straightaway, the porn film with the young man he called "blondie" and the bowl of popcorn - and it's unique contents of genitals. Vecchio laughed, then again, out loud. James chuckled as well and Ray covered his own blushing face for a second, still laughing hard and muttered, "You smart ass." 

Pace responded in mushed-up, baby talk, "But that's why you loved me!" 

* * *

It was 9:30pm once Ray made it back to the apartment. Fraser was still up, reading a book in the front room. He was drinking some tea when the Italian came in and took off his coat. 

"Hey, Benny." 

"Hello, Ray. How was your time with James?" 

Vecchio came over and sit on the couch, next to the Mountie, Ray's arm on his knee. "It was good. He's borrowing a stereo system for his New Years Eve party and I'm glad I was there to put it together. Talk about complicated! With all those wires, outputs, inputs and jacks, speakers placed _just so_ and the display case it went in, he never would've got it together on his own. The boy is not too electronically sophisticated, if you know what I mean." 

"It looks like the party will be a success." 

"Oh, yeah. With all that's been going on, he's planning to have a real shindig." 

"And we are invited?" 

"Of course! Seeing I'm going to be helping out, I certainly want you there. I mean, who else would I kiss at midnight?" 

Benny smiled at that and Ray began caressing the Constable's thigh, letting his fingers dip into the folds of his lover's jeans, towards his crotch. Slowly, time and again, Vecchio let his hand curl under the material, until he traced over Benny's groin. Slipping to the floor and moving up and kneeling, Ray parted the other man's leg's, placing his elbows on Fraser's knees. "Wanna' go take that shower now?" 

Vecchio knew Benny liked to be clean before they got started in bed, which at first bothered Ray, seeing it really killed any spontaneity. But then he agreed, seeing his own body may not exactly be minty fresh. 

"I already did." Fraser stated. 

"Good!" said Ray, taking off his tie. "Give me just ten minutes and-" 

"Ray, I, um..." 

Much to Ray's horror, the Mountie was shaking his head, the Constable's eyes closing in disagreement. "I have an early day tomorrow. The Inspector wants me there at seven. I told her I would arrive early and-" The detective had to swallow, his throat had gone so dry. He was frozen, staring at the man before him, his arms still in midair where he was removing the strap of material from around his neck. Ray had to remember to keep his voice calm and the pain out of his eyes. _Any_ negative action would totally end the possibility of talking the Constable into anything. 

_Okay. It's three strikes and I'm out. And I'm down one already. Play it cool, Vecchio, Don't let him see your dying here._

Slowly, he removed the tie and placed it aside. Keeping his eyes down, he came forward, nuzzling the Canadian's neck. "Oh, come on, Benny! I'll make it fun! We can do anything you want!" 

"I would Ray, it's just, like I said, I must get up around six and-" 

Gentle and soft, still kissing a beautiful ear, Ray said, "But it's been a long while since we, you know, and I've been looking forward to it all day 'cause you said we could. I promise I'll make it good. Okay?" 

Vecchio's heart beat triple time and his fingers were growing numb from the tension and stress. If Benny said no, he wasn't sure how he would react. Maybe he'd just break down into tears, since his limbs were already shaking. Benny often said fights about their lack of intimacy hurt him deeply. But what was Ray suppose to think, when it was clear Fraser hardly ever thought about it at all? The Constable was still reluctant, or so Ray thought, when the cop's next plea slipped out, in a causal whisper... 

"...please..." 

Cold. He was cold. Wide eyed and dazed, warm lips on his neck drew him from his stunned state. This time it was the Detective who was hesitant about making love, yet he gave in and tried to block out the fact his implored request seemed so natural, so easy. And he wasn't totally convinced Fraser honestly wanted him or was he just acquiescing? It was not lost on the Italian, for all of Pace's bizarre desire to see men submit, wasn't it odd who had Ray on his knees, begging? 

* * *

The music was blaring just loud to annoy Vecchio. He decided to not complain too much about it, since he was the one who said he'd show up tonight. The loft was full of folks and the Detective had to admit he was having a good time, despite playing part-time bartender and snack refresher. There were also fewer people than Ray expected who were drunk out of their skulls, one thing he was grateful for. He may have agreed to helping out at James' party, but the last thing he wanted to do was put up with the typically annoying New Years Eve partygoers - crying fools or slurring hotheads. The selection of music J.P. had picked wasn't bad, seeing he picked a variety of music, knowing when to play a few dance tunes from different decades, then a couple of slow songs so people could catch their breath. 

Setting down his beer bottle, Ray poured our some melted ice. The Detective looked over to see Benny in a far corner, sitting and talking with Jasmine. Vecchio could also hear Turnbull just around the corner, speaking with Pace, surprisingly enough. Ray smiled, thinking of the colorful terms J.P. would use later on to describe him. 

Tonight's gathering had been a success, which Ray could tell by J.P.'s exuberant attitude. James was out on what was now the dance floor, really his living room with the furniture moved by to the walls, and was moving and shaking with some older guy who was a neighbor of his. Vecchio was glad to see his friend finally enjoying himself after all that had happened with the mall and the Trio. The cop once again cleaned up the sink area and wiped down the makeshift bar. Ray wasn't sure how many drinks James had consumed, but Pace was slightly toasted, not overly intoxicated. It was J.P., only a little wilder. 

"If that's possible." He muttered on his way to the sink. The munches and alcohol were not running low or overflowing, which was good. Everybody seemed to be enjoying themselves and Pace even made sure all partygoers had a ride home with a sober driver. Ray had helped J.P. decorate the place earlier and the Detective could see now they'd done a pretty good job. Scented candles of many different shapes and scents had been placed strategically in groups of two and three throughout the large apartment. James had somehow decorated the ceiling with several strands of white Christmas lights that blinked, faded and pulsed in alternating patterns. And the food was all that bad stuff Vecchio was trying to avoid. 

_I have any more wing-dings and cheese-wieners and I'll be too tired to go running tomorrow!_

"Hey, Ray!" he heard Pace call from the dance floor, "Come on in, the water's fine!" 

Vecchio smiled, shaking his head. "No, thanks. I gotta' man the bar." 

"Oh, don't be such a brat! Look, I'll get the Mountie out here!" With that, James wove his way through the crowd and managed to pull the Constable away from the Consulate's secretary. "See? I got him! Now you have to join him!" 

At that, the stereo started playing the song "Monie, Monie", which Ray admittedly had a soft spot for. Maybe it was the warmth of the apartment or perhaps it was the frenzy of the surrounding patrons cheering him on or it was most likely the three beers he'd consumed that made the Detective cave in and get on the dance floor. Benny was moving stiffly, but at least in rhythm, and Ray couldn't help but think how wonderful this was. He was here with friends and coworkers alike, dancing as much as he dared, with the Mountie, to a song he enjoyed. 

_It doesn't get much better than this._

The song came to an end and James turned up the television. It showed "Dick Clark's New Years Rocking Eve" and the countdown began. It was a magical moment, as the clock struck midnight. The entire room cheered, "Happy New Year!" All of them were either kissing or hugging or singing or tossing confetti or setting off noisemakers and blow tickers. The atmosphere so frenzied and upbeat and happy, it was electric. Ray hugged, then kissed the beaming Constable. Vecchio smiled at his lover in his arms. "Happy New Year, Benny." 

Fraser placed his arms on Ray's shoulders. "Happy New Year to you too, Ray." 

It had been a perfect evening. The Detective would stay for a while longer and call it a night. 

_Before something bad can happen._ He mused. 

* * *

The clock read a little past one a.m. There were still quite a few guests at the party, even though midnight had come and gone. Ray was starting to feel the effects of being up since dawn. Combine that with a few beers, the bad food he'd eaten and this nearly middle-aged cop was ready for bed. 

_Now if I can just find my walker, hearing aid and tri-focal glasses._

"Coming through, you old cow!" Pace belted out right behind Vecchio, causing the cop to jump. 

"Jesus, man! Can you please let a guy know you're there?! You scared ten years outta' me!" 

"Well, next time I'll first send a carrier pigeon. But, as for now, Rick needs to go home. His designated driver is getting tired." J.P. started to reach up as far as he could to the highest shelf, to reach the cars keys he'd thrown up there earlier. "Oh, man! I can feel them, but they're just outta' my reach. Come on, Ray, help me. Can you reach them?" 

The Detective sighed, coming towards the other man, who was straining pitifully on his tiptoes, both arms in the air, leaning against the sink and cabinet. "Well, why the Hell did you throw them up there in the first place?" 

"Because -oof!- I told you -erf!- Rick is way too short to even think of trying -eeff!-...to get them down -arf!-" 

"Well, move, if I'm gonna' help you!" Vecchio snapped, coming close to James and also raising his hands upward. Using his left hand as a brace, the very tips of his fingers on the right hand curled around the top shelf. Suddenly, his pinky bumped into cool metal, which Vecchio fought to grasp. 

"Hey Ray," came Pace's deep voice from right beside him, "you keep getting so very close to me like this and I'll think your making a pass at me." 

The cop snorted. "Don't waste my time with your lies, Pace." 

A few seconds passed with the cop continuous groping before James said, "Hey " and backed away from the cabinet, dropping his arms, keys in hand. "Hey, come here, you." It made Ray wonder, if J.P. had the keys, why did he still stand there with his hands pointed at the ceiling? 

"What?" Vecchio said, retreating and picking up his beer bottle off the counter. 

Pace gave him a quick once over, amusement and alcohol making his brown eyes even more whimsical and heated. "You really have no idea, do you?" 

"About what?" the Detective absently asked, taking a sip of the amber liquid and sitting the bottle back down. 

Clutching the keys in his palm, Pace came closer, his eyes intently searching Vecchio's face. It was when the cop noticed James kept looking at his lips did Ray really start to get nervous. J.P. smiled a bit at Ray's confusion, but said nothing. A warm hand came up to cup Vecchio's right cheek, as J.P.'s hand slid around the other man's waist in a loose embrace. 

Stuck. Petrified. Absolutely glued to the stop. Ray could not pull away, could not move. That had to be it. It _had_ to be the beer causing his incapacitation. That wicked golden poison surging in his veins had grabbed his better sense and was wrestling it to the ground. He was startled by how easily the abandonment was welcomed. He couldn't believe Pace was doing this, right out in the open, just a short distance from not only other party patrons, but also Benny! _He's hot. I can feel his skin. It's all sweaty from dancing. Oh, God..._ The incredible heat coming off the fellow Italian made Vecchio's heart pound without mercy. The masculine sensuousness sparked Ray's carnal appetite, which, of course, was starving these days. It made the cop want to pull him close as well, to give in to the highly erotic mood. Yet, he remained paralyzed, fearful of any outcome. 

His own expression held trepidation, as Ray warily stared into his friend's face. He didn't want Pace to stop, yet he was terrified for him to do anything more. Suddenly, Pace licked his own lips and Vecchio gasped...deeply. And James noticed. The Detective's eyes opened wide, fearful, embarrassed. But Pace only gave a half smirk in reply. The dark-eyed Italian came closer, practically nuzzled Ray's neck, lightly caressing his ear with his lips. A warm palm slid up his back to cup the back of his neck. In spite of himself, the cop couldn't help but yearn to slip his hands into Pace's jet-black hair and kiss the fool. "Happy New Year, Ray Happy New Year." J.P. whispered...and slowly retreated from the intimate position, a wink and a smile his only other reply. Abruptly, he turned towards the other room, to give the car keys to their rightful owner, like nothing ever happened. 

It took more than a couple of seconds for Ray to compose himself, to dampen the toxic arousal that made him a whole lot drunker than any beer he'd had earlier. Another thought that cooled him down quickly was when he saw that Fraser was seated, but thankfully turned away, still conversing. Why had Pace got so close to him, working him up with the sexy gestures and mannerisms? 

_It can't be! Pace would never he doesn't want ._

A deep shudder rippled through him at just the idea, causing a tingle in his groin. It was as if a door was flung open and he'd been pushed through it. Admittedly, he hadn't done much to stop from crossing that boundary, a edge he'd been dancing around for a while now. He wanted James; that had been a fact for sometime. Without exception, however, it was something he would _not_ have confessed to out loud, let alone consider. That is, until Pace enticed him, a friend who happened to be a fellow freak. Absently, he picked up the beer bottle and nearly took a sip, when he realized he wasn't thinking of drinking, but still thinking of J.P.'s body against his own. Vecchio looked at the bottle, went over to the sink and poured out what was left. 

_Okay. Enough of that for a while. A Hell of a long while._

It made him shiver when the little voice inside him admonished his misdirected malevolence, stating to the nth degree, the spirits had little to do with what his hormones wanted. Turning to look at the other guests, he tried to act natural, but his hands were growing numb and his limbs were shaking a bit. His mind was also doing wicked somersaults, trying to replay the provocative scenes and randy sensations Pace created just a moment ago. A mental tidal wave was attacking him and he was startled by the enormity of the rising, emotional ocean he'd have to outrun. Attempting to block it all out, he went over to the chilli dip, grabbed some tortilla chips and ate a few bites. 

The Italian recalled watching James make the dip earlier. It was one can of basic chilli and one softened pack of creme cheese, whipped together with a fork and chilled. The flavor was cool and saucy. 

_Like James himself._

The erotic scenes flashed before he could refuse...of where on he'd _really_ like to place that slightly spicy, creamy and cold mixture and lick it up. And it wasn't on Benny. And did his body ever agree... In vain, he ignored his cock twitching, the sizzle in his balls. It was as if his groin was curious of this new source of pleasure. 

*Okay. Time to leave. Now. * 

Maybe, just maybe, if he ran fast enough, he could escape the lustful tsunami rolling towards him. He went over to where the Constable was sitting and interrupted his conversation with Elaine. 

"Hey, Benny, wanna' get on home now?" 

Elaine raised her eyebrows. "Ah...rude as ever, eh, Ray?" 

"'eh'? What are you now, Canadian?" 

She looked up, considering her answer. "Well, no. But maybe I could hang around Fraser more often...to see what a polite man is like!" "Have fun! You comin' or not, Benny?" 

"Yes. It is getting quite late. Thank you for coming to the party, Elaine." 

"Not a problem, Fraser. It's always good to see you." 

The Detective barely heard Elaine's goodbye. He was already walking briskly toward James. Once he was just within hearing range, he loudly announced to Pace, "Ok, sport. Me and the Mountie are out of here." 

"Ah, what's wrong, Ray? You don't want to stay up until four a.m., cleaning up?" 

James accentuated his goofy point by mock-punching the cop in the stomach. Vecchio seethed J.P. was acting stupid. Again. No...it wasn't dumbness, it was infantile behavior. Suddenly, a sharp, deep anger pooled in Vecchio's gut when he realized what his so-called friend had just done. Pace was teasing him! Obviously, James found Ray's sexual predicament comical and had played a really bad joke on the Detective, feigning his attraction. Yet, considering James' asinine nature, what else had Vecchio's expected? Pestering people to that extent was a form of sadism and something the cop had a low tolerance for. 

Without warning, he slapped Pace's hands away. "Stop it!" 

J.P. reared back, startled. "Wha-?" 

Near snarling, Vecchio said, "What?! _What?!_ You know, you play around too damned much, Pace! Your retarded attitude, that I can handle. But do NOT pretend I'm on your wish list! I don't appreciate you 'getting off' on my troubles. You hear me?" 

James already had his head down, eyes closed, his hands raised in surrender. 

"You're right, Ray, absolutely right. Come on, come over here." Pace took Ray's arm and lead him to the bedroom, to where it was quieter. Of course, the track lighting was on, making Vecchio's imagination go into overload. 

Facing Ray, Pace said, "Look, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that. I've had too much to drink-" 

"Then you should stop! For good, if it makes you do things you regret." 

Pace sighed, clearly embarrassed about what he'd done. "I know, you're right. I agree." 

"Fine. Just remember that." 

"Oh, come on, Ray. You at least gotta' give me credit." 

"What do you mean?" 

"I know a taken target when I see one, but you can't blame me for at least trying to hit the bull's-eye myself." 

Vecchio felt dizzy at that comment. Recalling one of their past conversations, he said, "I thought you were just harmlessly 'pseudo-flirting.' Now you telling me your for real?" He asked, genuinely afraid of the answer. 

"I told you, Ray. No more romancing from me, I swear." He could hear Fraser calling him, not too far away from the bedroom door. In the low, cold, blue light emanating from the floor, the cop could see the sincerity on his friend's face and a little part inside Vecchio screamed, objecting the death of any further solicitations. It didn't matter, honestly, because the hazel-eyed man was totally taken aback. James _did_ want him, he was just promising not to offer himself anymore. 

_Leave. Just leave before you do something stupid._ "Yeah, I'm coming right now, Benny." The Detective turned and left the bedroom. "I'll see you tomorrow around nine for our run, James." 

Following him out, Pace said, "Of course. I gotta' keep exercising to keep this girlish figure of mine." 

Ray refused to comment. He couldn't think of anything to say that didn't reflect his highly conflicted state. The cop called out goodnight to everyone, refusing to look at James. They went into the elevator. The Mountie was right beside him, who, of course, had no idea of anything that had just transpired. As they descended, Vecchio clenched and unclenched his fists, trying to dismiss the tingling that longed to feel heated olive skin...like that warm hand on the back of his neck. He sighed. There was no lying to himself. What Ray did know, and what scared him, was that he wouldn't need a porn tape to give him fantasies tonight, no matter how much he didn't want to think of it. 

* * *

The next morning, the first thing he became aware of was the Mountie sitting on the bed, rubbing his back. "Morning, Ray. Breakfast is ready." 

The cop rolled over and looked at the clock. It was a eight forty-five, a little later than he intended to sleep. He stretched, smiling lazily as he turned over to face the Canadian. "Hey, Benny. Thanks for waking and feeding me. I owe you one." "No, you don't. I decided to get up and cook. You don't have to repay me for that." 

Guilt. The first thing that came to him was guilt and it grew as he thought about the night before and how he'd acted around James. 

_Foolish old man. Act your age, damn it!_

The Detective smiled again and said, "Maybe I just want to treat you good anyway." He suddenly sat up. "Why don't we go to the Pier? Just me, you and Dief?" 

The Mountie's eyebrows went up. "You mean after breakfast?" 

The Italian was instantly deflated, recalling his prior obligation. "Um, no. I was going to meet James for our morning run. But we can go once I get back, okay?" 

"Of course, Ray. That will be just fine. There's no rush." 

* * *

The skull cap he wore just barely kept his ears warm and the driving gloves would leave his hands freezing if he didn't stay warm. But that was the least of his worries. He was in the Riv now, not far from J.P.'s loft, and the cop was growing nervous about being around his fellow Italian. He admonished himself, ashamed of the way he'd thought of Pace the night before. It was silly, really. For all of his horniness and sexual suffering, Ray wasn't one to cheat. He loved Benny, despite their problems and going astray wasn't going to solve anything. Although he did admit to not knowing how his issues with the Canadian were going to rectify themselves at this rate. Besides, Pace had promised to not be such a tease in the future anyway. Which, for the Detective, pretty much settled things. Relieved after talking himself out of any moral dilemmas, he parked and made his way up to Pace's place. A young man, around thirty or so, was laughing and talking with Pace when Ray came in. It surprised Vecchio to see James had a visitor so early in the morning. 

"Hey, Ray!" called James. "Come here. I'd like for you to meet a straight friend of mine." 

Vecchio came forward, rolling his eyes, opening his hands wide, a little frustrated Pace must announce the sexual preference of everyone to everyone. "Well, nice to meet you, straight man. I'm Ray." 

The other guy laughed, shaking Ray's hand. "Actually, my name is Mikey. Pleased to meet you. I had to stop by and pick up some uniforms 'Mr. Brilliant' here forgot to drop off." 

"Oh, so you work for this clown?" Vecchio asked, while getting some water from Pace's refrigerator. 

"You could say that." 

Pace wrinkled his nose. "You're both just jealous because I look good in polka dot!" 

Mikey laughed and grabbed the uniforms off the loveseat. "Oh, I gotta' get out of here before he starts with jokes about rubber noses." 

"I'll have you know, Mikey, I am pretty good at making perversely large balloon body parts!" 

Mikey turned to Ray and said, "Hey, Ray. Do you know what James' dick says to him every time it passes a gay bar?" 

"Knowing Pace, dare I ask?" Ray said, taking a drink of cold water, still at the fridge. 

"It says, 'wanna get shit-faced?'" 

Vecchio choked, forcing the water out of his throat as calmly as he could. The comment was horrible enough, but showing the shock the fool was fishing for would only make it worse. Pace tightly smiled, eyes closed and turning a dark red, clearly embarrassed. Mikey was giggling while waiting on the lift. "Oh, god." Ray said hoarsely, his tone disapproving, "That was awful." 

The doors opened and James called to the one who insulted him. "Hey, Mikey!" 

"Yeah?!" He faced him. 

Pace had the most invitingly sexy look, which intrigued Ray. J.P. opened his mouth, his tongue poking out just a bit. He took his first two fingers, stuck them in his mouth, laid them flat on the moist pad...and slowly slicked them back out. Not to suck, just to wet up. Tongue still out, his hand halted palm up, those same wet fingers pointing at Mikey, his thumb curled over the last two fingers. The only way Ray, or anyone on the planet for that matter, could interpret it was gay sign language for 'blow job'. It was also the most bald and gamey carnal display Vecchio had ever seen. The cop's entire nether region nearly exploded into flames, blood draining quickly to his cock, making him as hard as a diamond in no time. He sucked in air, loudly, but it was heard as surprise, not what it truly was - lethal excitement. 

Mikey fell out laughing, most likely to cover up his own mortification. "Ah, geez, man! What the Hell was _that_?! An invitation for oral fun?!" 

Triumphant in humiliating his tormentor, Pace said, "Take it anyway you like, love!" "I should've known than to go up against you! I'm outta' here! Nice to meet you, Ray!" 

"Yeah, same here." Ray replied, his voice a little hitched. 

"Okay, Ray! Ready to go?" Seeing it took Vecchio a minute to put the water bottle back in the fridge, Pace began falsely hurrying the cop. "Come on, come on, make it snappy! Speed up! _What... are...ya'...waitin'...for?!_ " 

"I hear you, Pace! Now shut up!" The door to the fridge closed...and James words hit Vecchio hit a ton of otters. 

*What *am*_ I waiting for?* 

As much as he could try to convince himself otherwise, it was clear the amount of time the Detective had was limited before he would give in to Pace. And there was no clear answers to the conflicts he had with the Constable. Sure, they had slept together not too long ago, but there was so much extra baggage that went along with the joyous event. What he _could_ look forward to was either damnation after forbidden bliss or Hell on Earth without any fleshly joy. 

_What a fucked-up so-called choice._ he bitterly thought. 

* * *

It was the second of January and work had almost returned to normal. Life, however, still had Ray on a shaky roller coaster. Folks continued to wish one another a Happy New Year and ask how their holidays went. It was disturbing, since it brought him back to when his latest misery began. And if that weren't enough, a shadow crossed his desk and the Italian looked up, realizing he still had some other business to take care of. 

"Good morning, Louise. And how are you today?" Vecchio said with the largest amount of false concern he could muster. 

The attractive redhead did not smile, but Vecchio could tell she wasn't angry at him. "I'm fine, Vecchio. I hear you're having problems with testifying in the trial against the Trio." 

"Why don't you direct your concern toward Thomas? He's the one with a memory problem." 

Tom turned around and yelled, "At least I ain't blocked out by a bright red light called the Mountie!" 

Detective Dewey was still angry at Vecchio and Fraser for siphoning away the media spotlight from himself and Detective Huey in apprehending the three manned robbing team. The press hadn't done either of them any favors and tried their best to place the gorgeous man in red at the center of the investigation. Which is not to say Ray and Fraser didn't try to set the record straight and inform the papers who the real heros were and eventually, it was made known that while the Mountie and Italian were in the gun battle that brought down the Trio, it was Huey and Dewey who were the true investigating cops on the case. In the end, after having to divvy up the attention, Thomas felt cheated. 

"Sorry, Thomas. It looks like they just won't take your word for it, sorry to say." 

"As long as you keep to the facts, I'll be fine with it." Tom snapped. 

Now he was getting on Vecchio's nerves. "Oh, _you'll_ be fine with it. That's good. See, here..." Ray grabbed his notepad out of his breast pocket and began to mock scribble, "I'm writing that down in my diary and I'll keep it next to my heart, always." 

"Look, the both of you!" Louise barked. "I am not going to get in between this! Figure it out and come up with a way to tell what really happened or I'll nail the two of you!" 

The investigating cops ceased the verbal sparing and the state's attorney went over a cabinet not far away to file some cases she was carrying. Suddenly, Tanya Camfetel came in the precinct, holding a squalling Michael Jr. in her arms. 

Ray's eyes grew wide and he stood. "Tanya! What are you doing here?" 

Switching the child from one hip to the other, she said, "I have to talk to you." 

Turning his attention to Elaine, Ray signaled for the civilian aid to take the child for a while. Over the screeching infant, she could be heard saying, "Oh, this little guy needs some hot chocolate to warm him up." 

Tanya was immensely grateful as she handed the baby over to the Ms. Besbriss and took a seat at Ray's desk. Her hair was disheveled, loosely pulled into a ponytail and she looked quite stressed. 

"What did you need to talk to me about?" 

"I'm here to tell you about Mr. Parks." 

Ray had to think for a second. "Laron Parks, the owner of the security company Michael Perkinson worked for?" 

"Yes. You see, I found some stuff after Michael died." She put her hand in her purse and pulled out some papers that looked like receipts of some kind. "I didn't know what to make of it. But then after I looked around some and made some phone calls, I started to understand. And then I got so scared, I didn't know what to do, so I just tried to forget about it." 

Vecchio shook his head. "What do you mean? What are you trying to tell me?" A tight cramp was forming in his stomach. 

She nervously looked around the bullpen. "Can we...can we go some place more private?" 

He looked at her. She was clutching the papers, but he couldn't see exactly what they were. There was something in the way her eyes were pleading with him that made him take the request seriously. 

"Well...I don't have a more private office. You wanna' go in the interrogation room? We could be alone there." 

She looked at him warily. "Yeah, I guess." 

They both stood and Ray caught the sight of the Mountie and the wolf. "Benny! I'm glad you're here! Look, Tanya Camfetel, this is Benny Fraser. He can help with whatever you want to tell me." 

"Ms. Camfetel, I'm pleased to meet you. Ray has mentioned you before. I'm sorry for your loss." 

The poor girl gingerly took Fraser's hand, staring at him with the same deer-in-headlights look Benny got when he was uttered confused. 

_I guess she hasn't made many trips north...or seen many Mountie's in Chicago._

"I promise, Tanya. He can help."   
That seemed to snap her back to the present. "Um...okay." She clutched her purse tighter as all three, two men, a wolf and Ms. Camfetel made their way to the interrogation room. 

Once inside, and after Ray checked to make sure they had no spies on the other side of the mirror, they set down, Tanya on one side, Mountie and cop on the other. Dief curled up under the table, uninterested in what was happening. "Okay, Tanya, what's this about?" 

She sighed and looked upward. "Oh, God...give me strength." she whispered. There was a pause before she said, "You have no idea what it took to bring me here after trying to avoid it all that time." 

Ray was getting nervous...and impatient. It was years of Mountie training that taught him to just let her speak. "Tell us." 

With that, she began to lay down bank receipts, one at a time. "I came across this a little over a month after Michael died. I didn't know what to make of it, until I read his note." The small note told of visits to a safe deposit box, as well as entries that had been made to a trust fund in Michael Junior's name. "The amounts just kept getting bigger and finally stayed around one or two thousand at a time, for about four months. He was killed just a week after the last entry." She began flipping open other pockets on her handbag and pulled out something else. "Then, in a drawer, I found this at the bottom of his stuff." 

The Detective had to tear his eyes away from the receipts on the table to look at what she laid down next. He saw it, his eyes focusing like mad on the little bag of white powder. The room swayed and his hands surged with a hot tingle. A desert formed in his throat causing him to croak instead of speak. So many questions were ricocheting in his head, he couldn't for the life of him figure out what he wanted to ask her. 

Finally, the Italian heard the Mountie say, "Do you have any idea how he came to posses this substance?" 

As she spoke, she began to get more and more upset. "From Mr. Parks, of course. Well, in his note, Michael apologized for all he'd done with Mr. Parks, for being his mule, that he had no choice or Mr. Parks would send him back to prison. Michael told me to not get involved. He said Mr. Parks is a rich and dangerous man with friends all over. I didn't come to you earlier because I was afraid! But...once I came to see you earlier, I realized this is about more than me. I mean, what if that bastard came after my son, Michael Jr.?" 

"Have you been threatened?" asked Fraser. 

"No. Not that I know of. But, there were times when I thought I was being followed. And there were a few phone calls when I would answer and they would just hang up." She began to cry and reached into her pocket for some tissue. She dabbed at her eyes, then said, "That's really all I know." She looked at the two men across from her, her brown eyes flicking back and forth. "What happens now?" 

At last, the cop found his voice, but confusion made his words stilted and forced. "We'll do some checking and figure a few things out. We'll let you know, Tanya." 

She looked at him shocked. "You'll 'let me know'?! Oh, please! Just don't bury this! I can't-" 

The Italian seized her hands, brought them together and looked her right in the face. "I...mean...it." He fought to get through to the girl with his words. "We'll find out what happening, I promise." 

Calmed by the Detective's conviction, she said, "Okay. Call me when you know something." She looked at the both of them again. "Can I go now?" "Yes." Ray said. "But you'll have to come back, once I get more information." 

"Of course." 

Ray grabbed evidence and stuffed it in his pocket. They stood to walk her out of the interrogation room, when Vecchio's mind overrode his will. "Tanya?" 

She faced him. "Yes?" 

"Did Michael...or Mr Parks or anyone say anything about James, I mean, Mr. James Pace, Michael's immediate supervisor?" 

She thought for a second, then said, "No, not that I know of. But I don't see how he _didn't_ know what Michael was doing, seeing he was Michael's boss." She thought for a moment. "But, I haven't gone through all of Michael's stuff yet. It took me a long time to even have the strength, if you know what I mean." 

"Of course." 

Numbly, Vecchio walked out of the interrogation room and the precinct was warped, like the view through a fish-eye lens. 

"Ray?" asked the Mountie. "Are you going to be okay?" 

The Italian turned to the Constable, his eyes still unfocused, his gate a little unsteady. "I don't know, Fraser. I don't know what to make of this just-" 

"Vecchio!" Louise's voice caught him off-guard. "What were you talking about with that young woman?" 

The highly unsettled Detective's first urge was to tell the state's attorney to shoved off. Then, her words filtered through and curiosity got the better of him. "Why?" 

Louise impatiently shook her head. "Why were you and her talking about Mr. Laron Parks?" 

The cop slowly blinked, shock making his mind move at a crawl. He heard the Mountie say, "Mr. Laron Parks is the supervisor the young woman's boyfriend, Michael Perkinson. Mr. Perkinson was killed several months ago." 

Ms. St. Laurent let the name roll around in her head for a few seconds. "No, it doesn't sound familiar. But I would have to check to see if Perkinson was on Parks list of mules." 

Ray's eyes snapped up, alive with fear. " _What?!_ Are you saying you knew Mr. Parks was running drugs?!" 

"Yes." she shrugged. "That's narcotics, Detectives. You're Violent Crimes. Why would you want to know anyway?" 

Vecchio turned and went to his desk and plopped down in his seat and held his head in his hands. 

Seeing this, the Mountie awkwardly said to Louise, "Um...that is...thank you for the information!" He went to join the frazzled Italian. 

Louise walked closer, drilling Ray with her eyes. "Why, Vecchio? Do you know something I don't?" 

Ray's stomach fell through the floor when Benny said, "Well, we-" "We don't know anything just yet." Ray cut in. "If I find out something, I'll let you know." 

A gaze that could cut diamonds fixated the cop and it was hard for him to ignore her words, " _Don't_ screw this one up, Vecchio. I mean it. You know something that will bury Mr. Parks and crew, you tell me A.S.A.P. Understood?!" 

"I hear you, Louise, believe me." Ray seethed just to get the wench off his back. 

The cop could not believe it. He refused to. It wasn't possible. Mr. James Pace had NOT come to Chicago, befriend the Detective, get him all hot and bothered, simply so he could use the cop to get him out of the Mother of all binds, when the law found out the suspected reason J.P. had all that money. But the evidence was growing...and Louise didn't even know all of what Ray did. Ray hated this way of thinking, an obsessive-compulsive train of thought that blocked out anything and everything and invaded his mind like a cancerous growth. 

Sympathetically, the Constable asked, "What do you want to do now, Ray?" 

He looked up at his lover. "I gotta' talk to Pace." 

* * *

It was like walking the edge of a knife in bare feet. It was a continuous, intense clawing at his senses, making him want to scream, pace and kick things. He _hated_ this, feeling like he had been played, made a fool of and used like an unpaid whore. At the same time, there was a furor just as resilient battling against the bundle of outrage. The other half of extreme emotions were screaming in sheer disbelief, in total denial of the possibility and would not accept what seemed to be an awful truth. The cop shivered when he considered how close he came to being more than just friends with someone who very well may be a sinisterly opportunistic criminal. 

_I just hope Victoria doesn't have a brother-in-crime._

Ray didn't have a great loathing of drug pushers, thinking maybe the entire "war on drugs" was a waste of time. It was why he'd chosen Violent Crimes over Narcotics, when he went into the Force. The horribly cynical part of him said if a person wanted to use until they died, let them. Instead of having the junkie rob, steal and maim to get his next high, give the stuff to them legally and be done with it. Experience, of course, often made him think otherwise. As a law enforcement officer, he'd seen one too many kids and even older folks hooked on the garbage. He couldn't stand the idea of making bust after bust after bust of the world's largest shipment of whatever and the problem never seeming to get any better. At least where he was, there was a better sense of accomplishment. Nonetheless, Vecchio was praying he was wrong about his friend. 

"Hi, Ray! Hi, Fraser! Oh and you brought Diefenbaker!" Pace's secretary adored the wolf and was scratching his neck in no time. 

"Hi, Natalie. Is he in?" Vecchio knew damn well James wasn't there. J.P. had told the Detective he'd be at the mall that morning. 

"Um, no. But he said he'd be back in about an hour. Would you like to wait in his office?" 

"That's good. And thanks." 

Once the three were in James' office, Ray locked the door. He began looking around in a causal manner at first, shuffling some paper in a bin and looking on top of a filing cabinet. He stopped to peer behind a large chest on the far side of the room. "Ray?" asked Fraser, who had been watching the detective the entire time. "What are you doing?" 

The Detective stopped and looked up, seemingly clueless. "What? Oh, nothing." With that, the American blatantly opened a drawer on Pace's desk and began going through the contents. 

"Ah. Nothing. Of course." Fraser remarked. "What do you hope to find?" 

"I don't know, Benny. But it'd go a lot faster if you start on the other side." 

The Constable dropped his head and sighed. "I thought we were going to ask James about what Tanya Camfetel said." He went over to the desk on the opposite side and opened a drawer. "Not...search his office." 

"Well, I know that, Benny. But I'm too wired to sit still and I'm too impatient to wait." Vecchio sat in James chair and began going through folders. "Besides, if he _is_ guilty, do ya' think he's just gonna' come out and say it? Especially after all he's gone through to work me up?" The cop plopped the folders back in a deep drawer and started on the next stack on top of the desk. 

The Constable was going through the file cabinet. "How do you mean, Ray?" 

Realizing what he'd said, the Detective back-tracked, not wanting the Mountie to know of his attraction to James. "Ah, nothing. He just played the part of 'friend' really well." 

"Well, we don't know that he isn't anything but a friend." Fraser reasoned. "And if we continue to violate his privacy, I think he's going to be more than offended if we are wrong." 

Seeing the Canadian was right, the Italian decided against further ruffling through the office and use another method of investigation. "You're right. Dief, come here!" 

The wolf lifted his head from the comfy, yellow loveseat, looking skeptically at the cop. 

"Ray, whatever you have in mind, I don't think Diefenbaker will be willing to-" 

"Does Dief want some of Ma's lasagne?!" 

_That_ got the wolf off the couch and over to Ray. Nearly nose-to-nose, Vecchio said, "Okay, boy! Search!" And the wolf-husky hybrid went about said task, sniffing the room intently. 

Fraser threw up his hands in exasperation. "Ray! That is awful! Stooping to bribery is just not right, especially in crime solving." 

Ray held out his hands and came closer. "Well, what would have me do, Benny? Threaten him with no donuts? It's not like I'm the only one who gives them to him." 

"That's not the point Ray. What if we are in the middle of nowhere and Diefenbaker won't do as he's told because he doesn't have access to your mom's cooking?" 

Vecchio put his hands on his hips. "And since when does that wolf 'do as he's told'?" 

Indignantly, Fraser said, "Well, before we were in Chicago, he did what was expected of him. But now he's gotten soft. I mean, look how round his belly is." 

Ray turned away and kept on talking. "Then do something about it, then! Take him for more walks or something!" Suddenly, Ray heard the sound of a small :::thump::: And those dreaded words from his lover split the air. "Oh, dear." 

Vecchio turned in the direction of the sound, only to see Dief had turned over a large potted plant and was digging the dirt onto the floor. The cop sucked in air to scream for the nutty canine to stop. He even formed his mouth for the harsh words needed. 

And the Detective's knees wobbled before he could utter the protest. He stopped. Stopped everything. Talking, debating, thinking and yes, even breathing. The blackness closed in and he fought it, while the half dog's claws ripped at little bags of white powder, mixed in the fancy soil housing the injured bamboo. **END**

* * *

End No Sense is Nonsense VII: Pure Thirst by LadyAna:

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